Love or War
by Kikurukina Bal Des'cagel
Summary: A most unexpected guest appears in Oritel's office to discuss about Bloom's fate, much to his relief and horror.


**Love or War**

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

**Disclaimer:** I do not own or profit from the Winx Club.

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><p>Oritel looked at gardens beyond the stained glass window. He sauntered through the halls of his palace. He had missed much in the last sixteen years. The sight of his youngest daughter now as tall as his wife Miriam caused him much heartbreak. There was an irreparable hole in his heart.<p>

His castle was currently being refurbished with the latest technology and spells. He could feel the magic of his ancient home toss and turn as it was moulded into a new protective spell. It made him nervous every time. He could clearly remember being anxious at every shift in the magic of his home for fear of an attack by the Ancestral Witches. Most of all, he feared that he would die knowing that his daughter Bloom would never be able to imagine what his faced looked like without referring to a photograph or painting.

His heart had stopped when he finally saw the face of his friend Erendor VIII. Sixteen years worth of laugh lines created by fond memories and battle scars from various wars were on his face. Erendor, who had always been healthy and hale in Oritel's eyes, was now a man ready to retire in face of the precarious health condition he had developed after numerous battles with Yoshinoya.

Samara was now a worn woman tired of fretting for the health of her husband king. She was as weary in soul as her husband in body. War had taken its toll on the two and Oritel could do nothing about it.

A new and younger man stood readily to take over his friend's position: Erendor IX, who was known to his daughter Bloom as Sky.

One part roared, "No," at his daughter's relationship. The paternal part of him wanted to conserve the image of his daughter being…well, _his_ daughter.

He had already lost Dafne. He had only seen her once after he had returned from the destroyed Obsidian. It was the most painful thing to see: a glowing phantasm that looked like his eldest daughter. After that, he never saw the ghost again.

Often, Miriam would spend her time in the scrying pool at the bottom of their palace speaking in lengthy monologues. Bloom would too. Oritel could not understand the vast powers that his wife and younger daughter held and he was not sure if he wanted to know.

His elder daughter was dead and his younger was really only his daughter in name and blood. She had been raised by other people not knowing who she truly was. Oritel yearned for the ability to turn back time.

He had other matters to attend to, such as recovering intel on the civil war that the young and current King of Eraklyon was trying to keep under wraps as he tried to maintain a relationship with his daughter. He had his doubts about the relationship but he was willing to trust the son of his best friend. At the moment, things had cooled down in Eraklyon but the war was far from over.

Oritel knew nearly nothing about the new king. His intelligence bureau had sixteen years worth of history to catch up on. It was downright frustrating.

The king moved towards an open window to feel the breeze. In the garden, he could see Bloom seated on a stone bench. Where was Stella of Solaria? The sun princess was supposed to be spending some time with Bloom to help her adapt to her new regal life.

Oritel turned. A guard stood in the hallway. "Yes?" he said.

"The Lord Kohler is here to see you."

"Lord Kohler?"

"Yes. He is in your office."

"_In my office?_" Oritel was on his guard immediately. His hands flexed to hold a weapon. He did not recognise the guard nor was anyone allowed in his office without his permission.

The guard turned to walk back to the office, a significant gesture. "Guard," Oritel warned. It was the king's personal way of denoting a faux pas.

He stopped and turned to Oritel. For the first time, he saw that he had an arm nestled in his jacket. His arm was held by a sling and the heavy empty sleeve of his jacket swung. He had shaggy brown hair that was certainly not standard; definitely due for a haircut.

"I am not your subject nor are you my king," the guard said cryptically. He had the posture of a disciplined but relaxed man. He was not fearless; no, he seemed weary.

No subject of Oritel's was allowed to show his back to their king. Evidently, this unknown guard was not one of his subjects.

Behind him, he heard the patter of boots. Two guards stood at his side but Oritel silenced them immediately and followed the weary man to his office. Unexpectedly, Miriam stepped out of his office holding a basin filled with stained towels and tools. She sighed at the unknown man.

She turned to Oritel. "No guards."

The guards at Oritel's side protested. "Your imperial majesty—!"

"_None_," she said pointedly. "Leave. I am sufficient in guarding the King's life."

The guards left and Oritel looked at Miriam quizzically. Then he saw the sadness on her face. He looked at her for more clues.

"Go back in and sit down, Captain," Miriam said to the stranger. She gestured to Oritel to go in as well. Apparently, she thought it was safe for him to enter the room.

Oritel was met with a frightening sight. Erendor IX stood in his office. His uniform was pristine beige save for the dried red stains that had developed on his left shoulder making a russet path that led down to his rows of campaign medals; there were about half of a dozen. One stood out in particular: his purple-ribboned Medal of Sacrifice adorned with a silver bar. It was one of the highest distinctions and he apparently merited it more than once.

Oritel could not imagine what had Sky done to merit such an exceptional distinction and it was probably better to not ask.

There was a sickly reddish hue in Sky's hair. His blond locks were cut uncharacteristically short and a bandage was wrapped around his right eye, the source of the bleeding. Had they stepped right out of the theatre of war?

Oritel closed the door immediately after Miriam returned with new supplies and skipped the formalities. He did not even care how they had gotten into his office for it was no longer important. "Sky, what are you doing here?"

The blond king fidgeted watched Miriam expertly inject anaesthesia into the guard, which he then recognised as Brandon, a master of disguise and Sky's body double, sitting on the couch. Sky was looking for the best way to express himself. He looked numbed, not by drugs but by trauma. "Samara is dead."

Blunt and to the point. War had turned this warrior king into stone. Why had he not said, "My mother is dead," or "Mother has passed away"? Did he feel nothing for his mother's passing? No, the blond king was just tired of reformulating the same idea into new ways. This man was carrying the weight of a world on his young shoulders. His reign began with war. War was his playground. Being eloquent was certainly not needed for the moment.

How did Bloom ever fall in love with this man?

He was full of dualities. One part of this man was just a normal man, capable of laughter and love, intelligent, charming and kind. The other part was a man who grew up in a world torn by war, unmerciful, harsh and deadly as a sword. It was a part that he had apparently kept well-hidden from Bloom.

Oritel began with, "I…you have my condolences—"

"It was two weeks ago. I will mourn…when it's all over."

Oritel was met with a wall of the hardest rock with those cutting words.

A multitude of thoughts manifested in Oritel's mind but he was afraid to know his own thoughts. He had been at war once as well, but it had only been once and for a brief time. He was afraid to even call it war for it was nothing like the one on Eraklyon. "What does this mean then?"

"I cannot marry Bloom in this state. Things may have calmed down but it's only a forced peace," he said succinctly.

The two kings watched Miriam take off Brandon's jacket. His dark shirt was stained with sweat and blood and torn in various places. Then Oritel realised that the horrid smell of fire and rot was there. It unsettled him.

"What are you implying?" He could not look at the blond king in the eye. He was perversely entranced by the man's injuries.

No Samara, no Queen of Eraklyon. Erendor IX was engaged to his Bloom….

"I do not wish to marry Bloom anymore."

"No!" his paternal feelings roared. He would not let this man leave his daughter heartbroken again but it was an irrational feelings. Irrational feelings were not welcomed in the king's office. Oritel knew better.

Sky's Adam's apple bobbed. A fissure in the persona of stone. "I cannot give Bloom this. I will spare her from this. She has fought her own demons to get to where she is and I do not need to add mine to hers."

Oritel was unsure of what to say. Deep inside of him, he had dreaded the fact that his Bloom intended to marry this man without acknowledging the war that he was fighting. He had feared that she suffer a fate comparable to…Samara's.

Suddenly, he was relieved. A chilling, refreshing breathe of fresh air. Tension melted off of him.

How horrible a father he was!

His Bloom would only cry with heartache for days, months, maybe even years but at the very least, that was a bearable suffering. She would be alive. She could heal and eventually forget Sky.

Miriam cleaned up a hastily stitched wound on Brandon's forearm. She reprimanded whoever had done the quick stitching for she had become adept as a battlefield doctor over the years and knew what she was seeing was not exemplary work. She spoke, "You will need to tell this to Bloom yourself, Erendor." To Brandon, she said, "I suggest that you do the same as well, Captain. I know that you like the Princess Stella. She tells me all about you."

"Yes, ma'am," Brandon said with a weak smile.

Silence reigned for a long time in the room. Oritel left to retrieve Bloom and Stella from the garden.

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><p><em>Dedicated to the men and women who courageously fight in the military and to those who have lost their lives<em>

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><p><strong>Latter Note:<strong> I do not pretend to know what war can do a man's psyche but I do know what death can do.


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